


Adjustment Period

by lynnkn



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Richard Gansey III is a Good Friend, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 22:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16901136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnkn/pseuds/lynnkn
Summary: Adam knows most people stay home when they're sick, but Adam is still learning how to be a person.





	Adjustment Period

Ronan was not the kind of guy who made plans. He never had been. So much of who he was came from trauma and fear, but impulsiveness was a part of his genetic code. He never understood the appeal of knowing every detail along the way. He didn’t live his life that way, and he couldn’t if he tried. 

Gansey was another story. Blue was Gansey’s second love, always falling behind his longstanding quest for knowledge. Henry, though much less extreme than Gansey, was also a planner by nature. And while Blue loathed to be considered sensible, she too knew this was not the kind of trip meant for aimless wandering. The maps had begun appearing a few days after the near-end of the world.  They were spread over the floor of the main living area of Monmouth, and displayed places and routes and the complex research Gansey had done on the history of each of their stops. Ronan had to step cautiously around the display to avoid ripping it because while he wouldmiss them, he wasn’t mad enough to rip up their plans in a jealous rage. Yet. 

He tucked his legs underneath him to sit next to Gansey on the floor behind the desk. Gansey’s face remained in its rightful place, smushed frantically in the pages of a book. It would be endearing if it weren't so annoying. He ripped several small pieces of paper from the edge of one of the maps and threw them, one by one, down the collar of his shirt.

Gansey finally flinched as large wad smack him across the cheekbone. He glanced up at Ronan. “Ronan, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

Ronan snorted and threw one last piece of paper down his shirt for good measure. “How’s the research coming?” he said. “Any dead Italian kings to chase?” 

Gansey opened his mouth, probably to explain the complicated Italian political system in the 19th century or some equally dreadful account of his adventures in Europe with Mallory, but the sound of the door squeaking open saved him from that particular fate. 

Adam, covered in a layer of dust with coveralls thrown over his arm, shut the door behind him. His hair was ruffled and hanging loosely over his forehead, and he seemed to have grown even older and more world-weary since Ronan had seen him the night before. 

“The fuck happened to you?”

Adam sighed, toeing his boots off in the doorway not to track anything too far into the room. He crept toward the center of the room but stopped before he reached the maps. “I’m covered in dust,” he said as if that wasn’t obvious. “I had to clear out some old boxes in the warehouse.”

“If you would like, you can shower here,” Gansey offered. It seemed like a safe enough offer, but Ronan knew small things could set Adam off when he was in a mood. “Do you work again tonight?” 

Adam nodded slowly. “I have to be at Boyd’s in a couple hours,” he said. “I think I will get a shower.” He drifted back toward the bathroom. 

* * *

   


When he returned, Adam looked a lot better, but not as much better as Ronan had expected. He had changed into his coveralls and came over to sit next to between them on the floor. Ronan reached over to grab his hand. 

Gansey continued to read. Ronan continued throwing things at him, and Adam settled against his side warming parts of himself that Ronan hadn’t even realized were cold. He inspected one of Gansey’s books as well, but since he had yet to flip a page, Ronan guessed he was not actually reading. 

It was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The three of them were almost never alone anymore. Usually, Blue or Henry, or both were there as well. Sometimes Adam was at work, or Ronan was with Opal at the Barns. Of course, it was never _just_ the three of them before because Noah had been there, but anyone who knew Noah knew it was really always just the three of them. 

A couple of harsh sneezes broke through the quiet trance of the afternoon. Adam sniffed pathetically. “Sorry, I must have missed some dust,” he said. Ronan caught Gansey's eyes from across the room as they both watched him in mutual concern. Adam coughed into his fist before asking hesitantly  “Can I crash in N- in the other bedroom?” breaking the comfortable silence. A familiar pang of sadness rang through all them as it did whenever anything related to Noah came up. It was quiet grief they were all experiencing, and one they would most likely carry with them for many years. But Ronan was mostly concerned because Adam Parrish did not ask for favors, even ones as inconsequential as taking a nap in dead boy's bed. 

“Of course, Adam,” Gansey said. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just tired.” He rubbed childishly and uncharacteristically at his eyes. He was still a warm weight against Ronn’s side, too warm of a weight. Feeling his forehead like a goddamn mother hen felt far too intimate with Gansey watching so he grabbed underneath Adam’s jaw to turn his face towards him. “You have a fucking fever.”

Adam shrugged. “I think I’m getting a cold.”

“Do you want some Tylenol?” Gansey asked. Ronan was pretty sure there was no Tylenol in the building, but it seemed like Adam was more likely to take it if they already had it and he knew Gansey wasn’t above sneaking out to buy some. 

“I’m alright,” he said. “I just need some more sleep.” He pushed himself up from the floor and dragged himself to the bedroom. Ronan let a few minutes pass before following him. 

Adam was face-down on the bed, short, congested breaths panting dangerously into the blankets. He was somewhere between asleep and conscious, so Ronan turned his head so it fell to the side and pulled the pillow further down. He roused slightly at the movement, looking up at Ronan through bloodshot eyes. “Are you going to be shitty about this?” Ronan asked. 

Adam shook his head and flopped it back onto the pillow. “I’ll try not to be,” he said. “But wake me up in an hour. I still have work tonight.” In the few months since their relationship had shifted to its current position, Ronan had learned a lot about Adam. And he was learning that he was much better off picking his battles. Adam was going to get some sleep and hopefully get a good night’s rest after work. This was a compromise he could live with. He pushed Adam’s hair back out of his face and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. 

Gansey smiled a mischievous smile, so Ronan flipped him off to prove a point. Adam softened something within him, but he had a reputation to uphold. He stepped right in the center of one of the maps for good measure, leaving a large bootprint right in the middle of it. Gansey pulled it from beneath his foot and grumbled only slightly as he pulled his papers toward his chest protectively. “Is he okay?” he finally asked. 

“He’s sick as hell.”

“Is he going to call in sick?” 

Ronan scoffed and rolled his eyes. Gansey was learning to speak the language of Adam Parrish, but he would never be quite as fluent in it as Ronan. Gansey, a true genius in so many fields, was stupid sometimes when it came to people. He couldn’t help it. Gansey’s particular brand of stupid came from privilege and generations of Anglo-Saxon breeding. He would never truly understand what it was like to have nothing, but the truth was neither would Ronan. 

“He can’t seriously think it’s a good idea to go in sick.”

“I’ll take him and pick him up,” Ronan said. “You know how he is. You gotta pick your fucking battles, man.”

Gansey’s mouth opened, a rebuttal already hanging off his lips, but he stopped. He noddedin concession. He turned his face back down to his research. “Did I tell you we’re spending a week in Ireland?” And with that, Gansey launched one of his lengthy musings on castles and grass and the beautiful sights they were going to see and adventures they were going to have. 

* * *

Adam ’s subconscious fear of missing work ripped him from his dreams, just a couple of minutes before Ronan came to wake him. He spent those minutes staring up at the industrial ceiling tiles and wondering why he was incapable of calling in sick even when he felt terrible. Boyd wouldn’t mind. Adam had only called in sick one other time. He was a hard worker when he was there. He never showed up late or left early. There was no reason he couldn’t  


What had been a steady drum against his temple earlier in the day had evolved (or devolved, from his perspective) into a harsh pounding all over his skull. His throat was raw, and he couldn’t get warm. He wanted to stay in one place. He didn’t ever want to move from underneath the blanket again. 

The door crept open, whining as if it could feel Adam’s reluctance to get up. Ronan, sensing the tone, closed it quietly behind him and approached the bed, sitting gently beside Adam. As a cough tore through the little air left in his lungs, Ronan settled his hand on Adam’s back. This was not the Ronan Lynch who broke things and rage raced and pissed people off. This was the Ronan that kept a list by the fridge at the Barns of which foods Opal did and did not like. This was the Ronan that dreamt gifts for all of his friends that Christmas, each one unique and useful and magical in strange and curious ways. This was the Ronan that Adam couldn’t get enough of. 

He raised one eyebrow in a questioning manner as if to say “Are you really this stupid?” Adam was afraid he might be, and it left him frustrated and confused. He reached up to grab a hand and squeezed it, suddenly craving Ronan’s skin against his. He needed touch more than he needed to breathe which was good because the mucus had settled into his sinuses, blocking his nose and making breathing a much more laborious task. 

The door cracked open, and Gansey stuck his head in. “How are you feeling, Adam?” 

He shrugged, too tired to think and too frustrated to speak. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to call in sick to work?” Gansey asked. Adam wanted to cry or scream or vomit. Instead, he nodded his head. 

“Would it make a difference if I told you that you should?” He shook his head once more. 

A guttural groan pulled Adam’s attention back to Ronan. He grabbed Adam’s face, trapping it between his hands, and jerked it up to make eye contact with him. In the moment of complete vulnerability, Adam had no choice but to listen. “You’re gonna spread your fucking germs all over the damn garage. That’s going to piss Boyd off more than calling in.” 

He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. It was true, of course. The last thing they needed was to pass around this virus for the rest of the winter. Everyone would be much better off if he stayed in and kept his germs to himself, or at least to him and Gansey and Ronan. He still wasn’t sure if he could, but he knew he should. He needed to. But he couldn’t.

He opened his eyes to see Ronan. He had let go of Adam’s face and was leaning against the wall, looking very much like wanted to look like he didn’t care which meant he cared a lot. He turned to see Gansey holding out his cell phone. The number for Boyd’s was already dialed. All he had to do was hit the call button and say the words. 

Adam nodded once, then twice and met Gansey’s eyes across the room before looking back at Ronan. He grabbed the phone and took the plunge. Adam Parrish was calling in sick. And while this time it was because of Gansey and Ronan, maybe one day, he could do it for himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just getting back into writing after going several years without writing anything other than research paper so bear with me if I'm a bit rusty.


End file.
